In the Dark
by Skitts
Summary: Rikucentric: Several different scenarios, all fairly angsty, all revolving around Riku. Poor kid doesn't ever catch a break. :COMPLETE:
1. Similar

**S I M I L A R**

RiKu-CeNtRiC

"_He couldn't feel sorry for her_."

-x-x-x-

Crimson hair spills in waves around her pale face, like thick chains of blood, wet rubies glowing dimly with no lustre or sparkle left. Violet eyes are closed, long, sooty black eyelashes blurring gently into each other until they become black strokes of chalk. Her knuckles are taught, bones seeming to struggle under her skin, as if all bones and tendons are under pressure, ready to snap.

She does not look Kairi. Kairi never looked so dead. Kairi's face was never without a trademark smile, her eyes never closed. She went around the world with eyes open, bright flames radiating from her body, so lithe and light and happy and bouncy. It's not her. It's not Kairi. It's a shell.

Wind blows gently, whistling through her loose strands of copper hair, moving them around her pale skin to frame her porcelain face, her slightly parted crimson lips. Red is such an occurring colour that the girl wears so blatantly, moving through the textures of her hair, to the coals in her eyes and the softness and curves captured in her lips. She is bleeding herself dry.

Her back is arched in awkward position, bones jutting from under the white covering. She was born with no spine. She was born with nothing to hold on to, and nowhere to go, and she fell. She stumbled, and tripped into a dark abyss and could never climb out. Her heart has been ensnared in darkness, and she has been dredged under the murky waters.

And then he remembers how similar their situations are. How broken they both are. And he doesn't feel very sorry for her anymore. The only difference is that she no longer posses a heart. And his is left in fragments.

-x-x-x-

_By Skitts._

_Me own none of the mentioned characters, or Kingdom Hearts._

_Feeling too lazy to write anything long XD. _


	2. Sockets

**S**ockets

**R**iku-Centric

"_Something so seductive about the darkness_."

-x-x-x-

Shows how e m p t y you are.

Eyes were sunken into the back of a head, rattling around in the darkened abyss, melancholy, reverberating to prove just how **empty** he was. Just hollowed out and picked to pieces, shattered and smashed and crushed and twisted until there's no boy left. No boy, no brilliant cyan eyes that burn like icy furnaces full of horizons and bridges to build and promises to keep. No eyes, just sockets, glaringly empty, imposing sockets, black, leaving you with a feeling of dread as you stare into them. Stare into yourself, and tell me what you see.

Shows how t a i n t e d your soul is.

Soul scarred and blackened like once brilliant white parchment, reduced to ash, ruins of a great city, vestiges of hope smothered by looming darkness. Not looming darkness, darkness everywhere, in your mouth and pouring through and out of those sockets, burying you, forcing you to submit, **smashing** your eyeballs into the walls of your head, a prison, a cage.

The inside of your head bleeds with black blood, like oil, tainted, un pure, the voices of friends screaming at you almost but not quite invading your space, attempting to worm their ways through and pushed back. So you're leaking torrents of oil and blood and darkness and pain and anger and fury and there's nothing left.

Something so s e d u c t i v e about the darkness.

Sin oozes from every pore, as your strings are being jerked, rattling, **rattling** around so emptily, running from the scene behind him, as dark-clouded voices call temptingly from the real walls surrounding you, trainers thundering on the ground.

"Why? It was mine…" voices, not your voice, your voice was never so cold and dark and empty, your eyes were never **sockets. **The light is no longer comforting, it blisters and scars you, showing you who you are, a **thing** that looks human, looks like him, doesn't act like him. Soul burned up, on cyan flames, eaten from inside, darkness worming around like maggots, filthy maggots, consuming you. You need more to replace the flakes of yourself breaking off. More. Brunet-spiked hair cleaved off pieces of you in an attempt to salvage any boy behind.

I can offer you r e d e m p t i o n

"Know this. The heart that is strong and true wields the keyblade…" says the voice, darkened tones, fits in with you, in the dark, the darkness hiding many things, for those too weak to face up to the light. You're just a shadow. You have **no heart** – you can't have, not the way you attempted to butcher your best friend, taunting him in a way differing to the friendly way back home. Things on the wall that hide from light, how could you hope to equal him?

"What? You're saying my heart's weaker than his?" Sockets, a voice not like yours, like your non-existent eyes, of a non-existent boy, struggling desperately, trying to drag himself out of the oil, pulling himself up, getting smothered by words and hatred and greed. You. This is the thing that you became, and those small pieces are disgusted, how could you break a deal to kill your own friend with this hooded stranger, who has a darker aura than yourself? But you're overpowered by greed and lust for this realm where light is shunned and this blackened void is eternal.

"For that instant, it was. However, you can become stronger. You showed no fear in stepping through the door to darkness. It held no terror for you. Plunge deeper into the darkness, and your heart will grow even stronger…" Voice trails away, and you look down at your hands, the real you that's been buried for so long trying to burst free, to shout an objection, no, this is **not** the path I want to take! Listen to me! Why do my lips move out of synch with my thoughts and wants? Or … is this what I want?

If you can pay the p r i c e

"What … should I do?"

"It's really quite simple. Open yourself to the darkness. That is all. Let your heart, your being, become darkness itself…"

So this is what true power feels like. It feels empty, makes you feel secluded, alone, in the dark, falling, falling, f a l l i n g … Where is that boy you used to be, who loved the light and taunted Sora good-naturedly and spoke with Kairi and laughed with Selphie, played Blitzball with Wakka and sparred with Tidus? How long … have you been in the dark?

_Why is it so cold?_

**Sockets. Just empty sockets.**

-x-x-x-

By Skitts

Who owns nothing.


	3. Pointless

**P**ointless

**R**iku-Centric

"_Only thing that makes him whole._"

-x-x-x-

As the boy runs through the complex corridors of his memory, his mind plays tricks on him, and sometimes he can see a flash of crimson hair and hear a playful giggle, and no matter how many heartless are slain under his soul eater and no matter how fast he runs he never catches a glimpse of Kairi, leading him to wonder if she was ever there in the first place.

Sometimes, he can see brunette hair, spiked up in numerous places into an explosion, blue eyes wide and bright, taunting him, asking him what happened to all his speed and energy, because back at the islands Riku always beat Sora, not the other way around. And no matter how many heartless are slain under his soul eater, and no matter how fast he runs he never catches a glimpse of Sora, leading him to wonder if he doesn't have any friends then what's the point of carrying on?

What's the point of running through all these empty rooms, devoid of anything but the darkness, and breaking out of the bonds of his memory into white-washed castles, to kill more before plunging back into worlds he'd rather forget?

What's the point of trying to fight that darkness when it's the only thing that hasn't run away from him, but is always, stubbornly there, giggling manically at him? The only thing that has stood by him?

What's the point of pushing away the only thing that makes him whole?

-x-x-x-

By Skitts

I own nothing.

This is Riku in Chain of Memories, questioning what's the point of running from the darkness.


	4. Sandcastle

**S**andcastle

**R**iku-Centric

"_Kairi would always come along and ruin it_"

-x-x-x-

Riku may have seemed like a normal fifteen-year-old boy to one who saw what was there and couldn't be bothered to delve in any further. They saw muscle-bound arms, piercing aqua eyes, and a motley collection of friends – namely, Kairi and Sora.

What they didn't see was his superb leadership qualities, his maddening desire to leave the islands, his slight, so-small-it-could-be-miniscule crush on Sora.

It was so tiny even Riku himself hadn't really noticed, until the sandcastle incident.

He and Sora had been sat on the island amongst mounds of sand, and even though it was considered childish to still be floundering about in the dirt at their age, they were still enjoying themselves. Of course, the 'floundering about in the mud' comment was ridiculous, as the three friends had gone through many-an outfit whilst in the process of building their raft, all due to dirt and grime and other unmentionables that would make a house-proud swoon. And building that raft wasn't a childish desire – it symbolised hope and dreams and new worlds, and anything with that much meaning just _can't_ be labelled stupid, then shoved into the corner without a backwards glance.

That was what the sandcastle was to Riku, as he moved back and examined it. It truly was beautiful, a joint effort, and it symbolised his and Sora's friendship. They could accomplish anything if they worked together, and made a great team.

Just like it had been before Kairi arrived...

Of course, if the castle symbolised their friendship, it had to be pulled down because when Kairi came, everything changed. There was no 'Sora and Riku, best friends forever'. It was all Kairi, Kairi, Kairi.

And so, with one small shriek and much flailing of the arms and legs, the girl (who appeared to be playing a very 'violent' game of tag with Selphie, Tidus and Wakka) charged straight through their castle, falling forwards in a very ungraceful arc to land, dead centre, on top of their castle, which was just a pile of sand now.

Riku sighed, burying his head in his lap, hearing Sora ask Kairi if she alright over and over again, completely ignoring Riku. But, then again, it had just been a castle to him. Something precarious, that was waiting to fall down. Just like their friendship – so dainty, so easily broken.

It was all Kairi's fault.

It didn't matter what Sora and Riku had, or could ever have in the future.

Kairi would always come along and ruin it.

-x-x-x-

By Skitts.

Just a random note, I really don't like SoraRiku, and this is the only way I can see it – onsided, at most. And I also know I haven't updated these one-shots in a LONG time. Whoops. My bad xD.

I own nothing.


	5. Alice

**alice**

♠----------------------------------

it's not impossible.

alice went to wonderland.  
but alice was fiction.  
head to toe.  
ink on paper.  
glossy illustrations.  
fantasy girl.

_Happy happy fantasy girl._

♠----------------------------------

Riku can try all he wants but he'll never make it.

He's not a cute little kid with pointed-in feet and blonde hair.  
He's not even a kid – not anymore, anyway.  
He's seventeen, and all hopes of ever reaching  
Wonderland have flown straight out the window.  
Off into the wide blue yonder.  
Wave goodbye to your fantasies.  
Fantasy girl.

_Happy happy fantasy girl._

♠----------------------------------

kairi doesn't want to see him.

he's not the riku she remembered.  
riku was headstrong and confident.  
he tried to deal with too much at once.  
he didn't tell her he was being beaten up at home.  
he didn't tell her he was trying to find wonderland.  
nothing bad happens in wonderland.  
Fantasy girl.

_Happy happy fantasy girl._

♠----------------------------------

So you sit in your ward.

White walls and white floors.  
Nurses smiles and take your temperature.  
It's all very safe – you can't hurt yourself.  
No more pills and no more razorblades.  
And no more wonderland.  
All you want to do is find wonderland.  
They won't let you.  
Harm yourself, they say.  
On stupid fantasies.  
Fantasy girl.

_Happy happy fantasy girl._

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------♥

Alice sips tea with the mad hatter.

Alice sits through farce trials with the queen.

Alice sings for the caterpillar.

**o**

In real life Alice is sat in a mental asylum.

Her eyes are glazed over, fingers locked together in her lap.

Hair falling over her face.

**o**

pills and medication and anaesthetic.

In real life Alice's parents cry over their crazy daughter.

There's shouting and tears and thrown crockery.

**o**

Alice sits there and smiles like the cheshire cat.

Composed like the dutchess.

razorblades and blood and headaches.

♠----------------------------------

Alice is a six year old girl who gets bullied.

Alice is a twelve year old boy in a wheelchair.  
Alice is a fifteen year old girl who's pregnant.  
Alice is an eighteen year old boy who's tried to commit suicide.  
Alice is in so many scenarios it hurts.

Look at the children in the ward.

Sora does, fear curdling in the pit of his stomach.

empty eyes and dazed smiles and pursed lips.

Sora came to see Riku.  
Or maybe he came to see Alice.

Right here – in wonderland.

Asylum. Ha.

clenched fists and teary-eyes and heads in hands.

♠----------------------------------

We're all mad here.

In wonderland.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------♥

**a.n:** I like this one-shot cause it's so weird… And odd… Enjoy :3


	6. Famous Last Words

**famous last words.**

**♥**

**f i n a l c u r t a i n**

It feels, for lack of better word, _nice._  
It feels nice to lay there on the dying, dying grass.

Scorched by the heat of the sun and dampened by pools of imitation blood.  
Black. Because you're an experiment and you bleed black, gashes spread over pale hands and cut through one eye, running down artificially perfected cheeks.Your hair still flips in exactly the same way, and you're perfect even in death.

**t a k e a b o w**

Experiments have short lives anyway, don't they?  
You would've staggered around dripping maggots and flies.

Your skin would've turned blue and your skin would flake off your bones.  
It's much better to do down like this, in a cloud of black blood with the dying sun glinting brightly, intrusive, the dying grass bowing underneath it's oppressing heat.  
The dying grass falls before the dying sun in a dying world with a dying boy.  
Creation, rather.  
This is the final curtain – no time for encores now.  
No roses fall at your feet and no applause meets your ears.  
Only a cold glare.  
Hurry up and die.

**l i g h t s a r e d i m m i n g**

"I feel guilty watching you. Die already."  
Riku, the _real_ Riku, flesh and blood Riku, staring at you with disdain.

You choke a laugh, even you're inhaling broken glass, not air, and it hurts so damn much when you breathe back in.  
The weight of the darkness presses down from all sides like a ten tonne truck is sat neatly on your chest – suffocation, the slowest way to die.  
How nice.  
It feels nice – sat here without a care in the world, fading from one non-existence to another.  
"I don't feel at all. Pity me. I can't."  
That's you – not Riku. You thought you were. Who knows, maybe you still are.  
Nobody knows – the nobodies know.  
For you it's all blurry.  
Just like your arms and legs.  
Fading – one non-existence to another.

"Take care of her."

**It's over now.**

**R**iku looks down in distain at the patch of dying grass under the dying sun where Riku Mark Two departed this world.

It felt horrible, looking at a perfect vision of himself snuff it – he'd been expecting more. Roses thrown at his feet. Grand performance, old chap.

You fooled everyone – fit the part perfectly.

Best actor ever.

His final words still ring in Riku's ears, chilling him to the bone.

_take care of her._

_Naminé._

**♥**

**a.n:** hmn… it's okay… I guess…


	7. Nonsense

one fine day in the middle of the night  
two dead men get up to fight.  
back to back they faced each other  
drew their swords and shot each other.

* * *

"Let's take the raft and go! Just the two of us!"

Her voice is as light as whipped cream, accompanied by a trademark Kairi giggle, a little laugh tacked onto the end for good measure. Sora's utterly fooled by her dramatisation of Little Miss Sweetness and Light, but Riku's not sure about the red-head anymore.

Riku sits there in the shadows, away from prying eyes, just like he's done on countless occasions before this one – paranoid down to the bone, convinced Sora and Kairi would be coseyed up having nice little chats about their crazy friend.

"What are you _talking_ about?" asks Sora. Ah, good old naïve Sora – he fails to pick up on the poison barbs scattered about carelessly in the girl's too-dark tone she couldn't quite manage to pass off as good humour.

"Hehe. Just kidding. Nonsense, right?"

Riku's not too sure.

_c n o e e s n e_

"Riku!"

His voice is desperate, almost as if a giant unseen wave is about to crash down on his head. He's reaching out, panic etched across his face, a worm trying to crawl away from a bird. A predator stalks about them, darkness on all sides. He looks at Riku pityingly. It's a look he exchanges to Kairi behind his back. When he thinks nobody's looking.

Riku's always looking nowadays, noting down every uneasy glimmer in Sora's eye during one of his talks about other worlds – god, he's lost it, talking nonsense. That's what those looks mean. And then there's Kairi, giggling in the corner, manipulating everything – using Sora's obvious attraction to her to pull him away from Riku. Playing on his insecurities, Sora's doubt in Riku spreading as Kairi offers the fire more kindling.

"The door has opened… Now we can go to the outside world!" shouts Riku, staring at the darkened sky. His tropical surroundings, which up until now had been the norm, looking strangely scary. A bit like a twisted nightmare, where everything seems the same but isn't…

"That's crazy! You're crazy! You're speaking _nonsense_!"

Riku's not too sure.

_o n s e c n n e_

"No… You won't _use me for this_!"

His voice is pained, almost as if his lungs have been pushed through a blender, shredded into a sickly mess of internal organ. It's impossible to coerce a normal tone of voice from the battered innards, let alone the normally sarcastic way of speaking that makes Riku identifiable as Riku.

Riku has been in the darkness so long he's not sure what's what – up and down, night and day, light and dark. None of it holds any meaning any more, for there is no up and down, night and day or light and dark in the endless realms of nothingness he's been traversing around in for so long, whilst that evil man uses his body to harm his once-upon-a-time friends.

"This is impossible! You're not meant to _fight back_!" cries Ansem in evident surprise, giving Kairi, Donald and Goofy enough time to flee. Flee for their pathetic lives. Stupid wastes – maggot ridden beings covered in skin. Kairi always talked trash, anyway, and Donald and Goofy are just animal/human hybrids with about four brain cells between them. Sora and Riku are the real heroes – and look what's happened to them. Nonsense – how could the two heroes be taken down like this?

"It shouldn't be like this… This is nonsense!"

Riku's not too sure.

* * *

**n o n s e n c e**

**nonsense**

* * *

**If you don't believe my story's not true**

**Ask the blind man - he saw it too.**

* * *

**a.n:** hehehehe… I don't know who wrote that poem, actually… but it's rather famous. I like the poem . 

**Skitts xx**


	8. April Showers

look. i bleed **b** **l** **a** **c** **k .** ¨¨¨¨¨×»

His arm is covered in _red_, dripping down in garish, brightly-coloured patterns. Criss-crossing like intricate, macabre spider-webs, running along the gashes cut deep into the boy's skins, rivulets coursing down the pale flesh – contrast. Droplets hit the grimy floor, drip, drip, drip.

April showers, only it's not April. It's dark, dank and cold and it feels like winter. These bad times in his life aren't simple spots of nasty weather that'll clear up in a few minutes, making room for sunshine. The sunshine in his life has gone – so long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodnight. Arigotou. No more April. No more April showers. Just dark, dank, cold winters that stretch on for an eternity and a day.

Back home he wasn't tainted. He was a normal, happy boy who occasionally felt like an abnormal, unhappy boy. But those were just April showers, bad patches in his life, and they all cleared up eventually. He used to cut himself – red, so much red. April showers. Kairi and Sora found out eventually – they prised the razorblade out of his hands, got down on their hands and knees and begged him never to do it again. And it passed. Goodbye, rain – make room for sunshine. Summery, sweltering sunshine. Happy times.

But now Kairi's dead and Sora's hurt and it's all his fault. He doesn't bleed red anymore – he's so tainted all he can see is **black**. So he digs the razorblade in deeper, eyes wide, movements becoming erratic, spasticated, breath hitching in his throat. It doesn't matter how much skin he pulls away, how deeply he plunges the slick, silvery blade into paper-thin flesh – it's still** black**.

**Black**, **black**, **black**. Dark, dank, cold winter that'll never get better.

The sunshine disappeared a long time ago.

so incy wincy spider never climbed the spout **a g a i n .**¨¨¨¨¨×»


	9. Son

They mistreated you, didn't they?

Oh now, don't give me that look.

You're angry and yet you're scared.

So very scared.

A lonely little boy.

You have been for quite some time, haven't you?

And yes, don't think I'm blind.

You're snorting in disdain and turning away.

You're not fooling anyone, you know.

Least of all me.

You loved your friends, didn't you?

You loved them with all your heart.

You told them things you'd tell nobody else.

But they were mere children compared to you.

They didn't understand.

They didn't understand your need to visit new worlds.

They didn't understand your reckless, restless nature.

They didn't understand _you_.

So, out of fear for the unknown, they turned against you.

They whispered together – our crazy friend.

You can shout and scream and make up excuses all you like.

You can try and defend them.

I won't stop you.

But deep down you know I'm right.

You _heard_ them talking together on the pier.

They wanted to leave you behind.

Innocent, stupid, naïve.

C_hildren_.

You were years ahead of them and you understood.

They shunned you for it.

Do you remember how you reached out for him across the darkness?

Do you remember the look of fear, revulsion, shock on his face?

He didn't understand.

How could he?

No, don't hate him for it, my dear boy.

You say you don't but deep down you **do.**

You hate him.

You hate her.

You hate both of them.

Oh no – you say I've got it wrong.

You hate **me**.

They were friends and I'm just some creepy old lady, and didn't your mother say never to trust strangers?

Maybe so.

But they didn't understand.

I do.

Do you really want to flounder about by yourself in the darkness looking for answers nobody can give?

_I_ can give them to you.

_I_ can give you knowledge.

_I_ can make your dreams come true.

I'm not a child like those two, dear.

I understand.

I understand you.

I understand you more than you think.

More than you know.

He didn't take your hand, did he?

But I will – if you let me, that is.

I will take your hand and pull you out of this nightmare.

I can make you happy.

You're looking at me sceptically.

_Why?_

_Why should I trust you?_

Who else can you trust?

Give me a name, one single name.

Then I'll be on my way.

Who.

Else.

Can.

You.

Trust?

A blank look, a cold stare.

Don't cry.

I'll treat you like a son.

I'll be the mother you never had.

The mother who ignored you through childhood.

The mother who laughed at your fanciful ideas.

The mother who didn't understand.

I'll take your hand…

If you'll let me, that is.

For you see…

When the darkness came, you had no chance but to oblige to its wishes.

It's no different now.

You will take my hand.

In due time you'll see.

In due time, my dear boy.

My son.

They mistreated you, didn't they?

They all did.

But I won't.

* * *

**a.n:** soo… can you guess what's going on here? xP tis easy, actually. this is an also an entry for nicrafetix's contest ;D yahhhhh.


	10. Over & Over

_i try to live without you _

_every time i do i feel dead _

----------------------------------------»»

**W**hen he saw her his heart seemed to sink, a feeling that can be compared to walking up the stairs late at night and tripping over a sneaky step hidden at the top that you'd forgotten all about. You're blinded by shock and realisation and, before you can do anything about it, you've fallen. And it hurts. They say ignorance is bliss, but when that ignorance wears away and all you're left with is a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach can you be so sure?

Remember, Riku; intelligent people are more depressed because they know what the world is really like. And he'd hoped, hoped so much it **hurt**, that she'd been Kairi. And, even though he knew deep down she wasn't really, he'd led himself to believe that there was a fraction of a chance she was the red-head he knew so well and loved so dearly.

And now, face-to-face with the petite blonde girl, he can't help but feel betrayed. Betrayed by that one hidden step at the top of the stairs. Falling. He knew she hadn't really been Kairi, but he'd hoped…

They said hope rebuilt the worlds lost to the darkness, whoever 'they' were. But it didn't. Hope **crushed** you. Maybe it was the worst plague Pandora had let loose out of the box.

If your mother is dying from an incurable disease you can hope all you want but you know she'll go in the end. That's what happened to Riku.

If your father is abusing you behind locked doors you can hope he'll stop but you know deep down he never will. That's what happened to Riku.

If Kairi fell in love with Sora you can hope they'll break up, but then what sort of a friend would you be? Kairi and Sora didn't even like him anymore, anyway. He was a bad person for hoping such things. He was a bad person for hoping, full stop. It always hurt the most when what he prayed for never came true.

"You're not Kairi." It was the only thing he could say to her. He couldn't bring himself to say he hoped she had been, but he guessed she must have been able to pick up on the bitter disappointed concealed behind his restricted, polite tones by the look on her face, the widening of her baby blue eyes.

They were a lighter shade than Kairi's but, then again, he'd already established the firm fact that she **wasn't** Kairi, so why must he compare the two girls? Maybe it was because they looked similar… But no, those eyes were for this girl and this girl only.

"No. My name is Naminé," she greeted politely, with a small smile. "But I could be Kairi for you if you liked…"

Riku was perplexed by those words but he tried not to show it. It was one thing he'd learnt in Castle Oblivion, whilst being pitted against fake memories and false memories and memories that were real but he wished they weren't because he was ashamed. So very ashamed. Never show emotion.

He looked at her, eyes sweeping over her delicate form, and imagined her as Kairi. He imagined her lying on the floor missing a heart, back bent, head lolling, mouth open like the hole in her chest and him, Riku, with blood on his hands. Her blood.

If she was Kairi he'd only break her again, just like last time.

And he loved her so much he'd never stop.

----------------------------------------»»

_i know what's best for me_

_but i want you instead_

**i'll keep on wasting all my time **

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: hee. i like Riku/Naminé. Anyway, the song lyrics are Over & Over by Three Days Grace. yayness. personally, i like this one a lot. i hope you do too


	11. Self Portrait

**Self Portrait**

* * *

It was a small square school built with little red square bricks for little children on a little island.

Art was always a favourite for the young inhabitants of Destiny Islands, as it is for most children. Paint is thrown about the classroom, clothes get stained and irked mothers often fuss over the states of their little angels. It's not treated as lesson; it's _fun_. Just like the hour's worth of playtime on the nearby beach where the girls gang up together and bury the boys and the boys gang up together and push the girls into the sea.

Riku was never one for running, screaming, mucking about and getting paint in his hair, but even _he_ managed to find the class mildly entertaining, especially when the new girl Kairi got her flouncy skirts mucky and started whimpering. Mainly because he could put his arm round as she sat next to him and stick his tongue out at Sora, because he _luuuurrrrvveed_ Kairi. But Riku 'luuuuuurrrvveed' her more, of course.

So it was at this one lesson the teacher, all smiles and sunbeams, produced a box of cracked mirrors, worn with age and covered in fingerprints from other generations of little islanders, from a cabinet, along with a handful of brushes and paints.

There was a lot of gasping and giggling as the paints were brought out, and Selphie started to eye up the yellow with a smile on her face. She **wanted** the banana yellow paint, no doubt about it, and was obviously preparing to make a beeline for it as soon as it was plonked onto the front desk. Woe betide anybody who snatched the yellow from her. She was a good hair puller.

"I want you to do me a self portrait," decalred the teacher, walking around the desks and giving out mirrors. She obviously didn't trust the handful of six and seven year olds with breakable glass objects, especially as half the class were like mini Selphies; unreliable and easily distracted by colourful things. "Look into the mirror and paint what you see."

After the mirrors had been safely distributed the teacher left the children to their own devices, watching with a small smile on her face as her class stampeded up to the front, snatching the best brushes and, in the case of Selphie, taking the entire bottle of yellow. Nobody tried to stop her; they all knew of the dire consequences, such as having your Frisbee in the ocean or your skipping rope buried under the sand. She was sneaky like that.

"Do you like my picture, Riku?" inquired Kairi, all curly red hair and large blue eyes. She also had a slight lisp, but apparently the doctor said it would probably clear up when she got much olderer. She pushed her sheet of paper towards the boy, a myriad of pinks and purples.

Riku surveyed the picture carefully, turning it around so as to make it out clearly. A pink blob surrounded by red and purple. Very nice.

"I like it, Kairi. I like it lots," he assured her, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue at Sora, who was on the row behind them crammed in between Rinoa, a sweet girl who knew far too much for her own good, and Tidus, a boy who liked to smack his sheet of paper repeatedly with the wrong end of his brush.

Sora pulled a grotesque face in return and looked back down at his mirror, biting his peachy pink lip as he tried to paint his flyaway brown hair accurately.

"Oh, but Riku… You haven't started yours. Miss'll come round and tell you off'fa bein' naughty," the red-head said, looking down at Riku's blank canvas. "D'ya want me to help?"

"No… It's alright, Kairi. I think I can manage by myself. I just need to look in the mirror a bit more."

"Okie dokie!" giggled the girl, easily pacified, looking down at her work critically like a slightly younger, slightly more female version of Picasso critiquing his latest masterpiece. "Mebbe I needs some more pink…"

Riku hid his smile at that statement (her picture was already an intelligible fuzz of bright, girlie colours) and looked into his mirror. He wasn't too happy with what he saw.

Long-ish silver hair, longer than some of the girl's, with a too-pale face and ice-cold ices that made his mother, Yunalesca, shiver. Hmn. He looked a bit like his mother, although he always denied it fiercely. He didn't want to be associated with Yunalesca, or any of the dark purply bruises under his eyes, on his arms and dotted along his back. Yunalesca's idea of 'love' was a little … unique when compared to other parents.

Kairi's dad wasn't even her _real_ dad, but he didn't scream at her or hit her… Did he? Was it something all parents did?

He leant over to ask her, out of mere childish curiosity, but in doing so made one fatal mistake; he'd left his unpainted picture unguarded from the clumsy wrath of Zidaine who was prone to knocking pots of water, paint and glue (he wasn't picky) onto other people's work with badly placed elbows and the like.

The was a clatter, a bang and a proclamation of 'ouch!' as a gangly limb flew out of nowhere and smacked into a bottle of black paint, upending the whole thing onto Riku's sheet of paper.

Black _oozed_ over the innocent white, coating it; tainting it like tar – thick and dark and ugly. Like a nightmare. Twisted shadows spread across his paper, eating up all the colour until there was nothing left.

It wasn't the self portrait of a little boy, especially not a little boy who was deathly _afraid_ of the dark and couldn't go to sleep at night because his own mother refused point-blank to oust the monsters from under the bed because she was too busy drinking from weird green bottles.

"Ohmigod! I'm so so so so so **sooooo** sorry!" screamed Zidane in panic, attempting to mop up some of the black with the sleeve of his T-Shirt. It didn't make it better. It made it worse. "I'll… I'll… I'll give you my cupcake at school tomorrow! I will! I promise! I'm sorryyyyyy!"

But Riku is afraid of the dark, and all the cupcakes in the world won't change that.

He started to cry.

* * *

Kairi doesn't like growing up.

She's older, but she certainly isn't wiser. If anything, she's become even _stupider_; she starves herself on salads to stop the spread of her hips and wears clothes not because she likes them, but because other people do. She rots her brain with mobile phones and tries to fit in with the crowd, but sometimes it's hard living without a personality.

It's hard trying not to think about Sora and Riku. Nobody remembers them, but _she_ does.

She especially remembers that one art lesson a long, long time ago, before the hair straighteners and high school. Even further back than then; before that one summer a long time ago when the sky went black, just like Riku's painting, and her ribcage was cracked by shadowy maggots that invaded her body and ripped out her heart. She can still remember, even now. And it hurts.

They hung the self portraits up around the school for parent's evening, not that Riku's mother came, a mess of bright colours and bright futures gleaming on the butter yellow walls.

There was Kairi's, pretty and pink, and Sora's, bold and red. And then Riku's, placed in the middle because they requested it, being 'best friends' and all, sticking out like a sore thumb. A sheet of dark maggots and heartless and storms, just like the ones that hit the island. Just like the ones that stole Kairi's heart. Just like the ones Riku turned into.

Kairi never used to have nightmares before, but now she can never escape from them.

Shadows weave in and out from tarnished memory to tarnished memory, golden eyes glow malevolently around corners; clawed hands reach forwards and grab at her hair and legs.

The worst thing is that they're always Riku.

* * *

**a.n:** wh00t. lurve it xD. i find the idea of the kh characters being kids very cute :3


	12. Misery Loves Company

♥**X**** don't you know** that _misery_ is c o m p a n y . . . ?

Aqua eyes rolled back in dark sockets, silver hair fell limply over a pale face. Hands clenched and unclenched, tendrils of darkness snaked around his arms and legs and up, obscuring the floor and ceiling and walls and everything. He could barely see three inches into the black fog that shrouded his surroundings.

They asked him why he didn't turn the light on. Why he stayed there in that cell and rotted. He didn't have to; he could flick the switch and bathe the room in yellow and chase all the shadows away. He always replied that he didn't want to.

When the lights came on he'd know what he really was. What he'd become.

When the lights came on it would signify weakness. It would show to Maleficent he was ready to accept her and what she offered. And if he did that everything would swiftly go downhill. By turning on the light he would be embracing the darkness.

The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes.

Once he'd turned on that one light and accepted that one room Maleficent had given him he'd end up accepting _her_, and then she'd warp his mind and he'd accept the darkness as well. It was awfully ironic that the light could spawn more darkness, but then again it was also ironic that _he_ was the best at everything and yet he was locked up and rotting whilst Sora was off saving the world.

He didn't need anything or anybody. He didn't need light or warmth or food or comfort. He didn't need Sora or Kairi or his island. He **didn't** need it.

At least, not yet.

It was only a matter of time…

**X**** ♥ i hope **that _misery _comes looking f o r m e . . .


	13. Hello

"Hi, Kairi," Riku greets brightly, seating himself down beside her. His boots thunk dully against the worm-ridden boards below, the numerous chains on his pants clink a little. And still Kairi sits there, head down, mouth open, eyes blank and staring. Listening. Always listening. Just like a good friend should.

"I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you for a bit recently. It's just… Oh, everybody's so busy now," he muses, half to himself, half to Kairi. The red-head remains unresponsive, but this doesn't deter Riku. She's being a good friend, always there for him, never questioning. Just like she should.

He starts to twirl a lock of her bright red hair around one of his fingers absent-mindedly, loving the sharp contrast of colours. Bright red against papery white skin.

"Did you know Sora's trying to find you? They say he's on the ship somewhere. But of course, he's not the _real_ Sora because we're friends with the real Sora. He's just a copy trying to trick me. But I won't let him take our happiness away."

At his words the shadows in the corner seem to move, golden eyes rise up from the twisted boards. They blink like faulty streetlamps in a storm; on, off, on, off, sweeping about the room inquisitively.

"He's horrible, trying to take away our friendship. But nothing will ever do that, because we're together again. You always wanted us three to be united, Kairi? Aren't you happy?"

He swears she nods her head, not seeming to notice that it's his own hands under her neck and on the top of her cranium, pulling it up and down so fiercely it's in danger of snapping off. Just like playing with a doll, only Riku Kairi isn't a doll and this isn't a sick mind game. It's _real_.

And sure, even he's aware that there's something odd about the whole scenario. Kairi listens too much, and Sora lays there like a deadweight, waiting for orders. His eyes are so yellow it hurts.

But he doesn't want this reunion spoilt by things such as 'reality'. He doesn't know what he'd do if that was to happen. But no; he shakes his head. It _won't_ happen, because in his mind this is all real and why can nobody else see that? Why do they treat him with so much _pity_? He's not crazy… He's happy, only they want to take his happiness away.

He grins as Sora crawls over to where he and Kairi lay, leaning up against him. Completing the trio. Together again.

Riku smiles because he's sure he's the happiest boy in the world.


	14. Antidepressants

**Antidepressants**** »**

He stared at the screen, eyes large and glossy. Teeth nibbled at the ends of his nails, gentle at first. _Tut, tut, tut. What would your mother say? She always __**hated **__it when you did that_. He's not just nibbling at his nails now; he's pulling back bone fiercely, blood starting to trickle down his fingers, staining the sofa but it's so stained already he doesn't think it makes that much difference. _Mother never liked mess, cleanfreak that she was. Tidy your room, Riku. What, you call that _tidy?_ Eyes roll. A smirk. Go back and tidy it again… Or you'll be sorry._

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not clean enough. I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I'm sorry I'm not perfect. I'm sorry I'm not _Kadaj. _Kadaj was perfect; he tidied up his room, he ate his greens, he got straight As. But Kadaj was a nutcase, wasn't he? Wasn't he? He went mad because he couldn't stand having _a mother like you. _Kadaj had been sick anyway, sick from birth, sick as a baby, but he got even worse. Sick, sick, sick in the head. He died. You always loved him the most. But he didn't love you. Maybe you knew. Maybe you knew he always hated you. You loved him too much to take it out on him, and he was ill anyway. So it was always Riku's fault. Always. Everything._

_It was his fault Kadaj died, even though it wasn't really. Riku knew that. Mother knew that. Or maybe she didn't… She was always pretty out of it. Maybe she'd already gone crazy before the funeral. Maybe she hadn't but wished she was. Wished she was sick enough to believe it was really Riku's fault, not hers. _

There's some bad soap on TV and he's watching but not really _seeing _it. Pills are resting on the table next to him in all their red-and-white splendour. The first time he had them he gagged. The second time he managed to swallow them down with water but brought them back up again, in the toilet, on the seat, trickling down onto the floor. The third time (third time lucky) they went down and **stayed** down. They didn't help.

They made it worse; so much worse that sometimes he had to have another and another, even though they tasted sick and made him _feel_ sick. They were meant to be **anti**depressants, after all.

_Tut, tut, tut. What would mother say? You're twenty-two, you're lying in a flat by yourself, you haven't got a job, you scared your last girlfriend away and you're on antidepressants._

Mother had to put up with a lot of things in her life, but it's not like she can really comment now. Not ten feet under in the mud, randevousing with the worms and decaying slowly. Why should he care what mother thought now?

Riku eyed the packet carefully before picking them all up, throwing caution to the wind. He swallowed every last pill, despite the doctor's warning. There is no water this time, unlike all the other times. It's painful, working them down his windpipe with no lubrication, but he doesn't give a damn. In a few more hours he won't even know what pain is anymore. He'll be away from it all.

He'll be in hell, just like everybody told him, along with his darling mother. Along with Aerith. Only he'll be dead (_farrr_ too dead) for her to hurt him. For anyone to hurt him. He'll finally be **happy**.

Further proof that anti-depressants really do work.


	15. Coin Operated Boy

"**W**hat's your name?" she asks, voice light; teasing. She plays absentmindedly with one of her bright blonde imitation antennas, lips forming a smirk. She has a tongue of pure poison inside her head, capable of shooing poison barbs out with such finesse that only comes about after years worth of practice. Her eyes spark and crackle with ill-natured, sadistic humour as the boy cowers before her, blood and guts and darkness.

"I… I… I don't _know_," he replies, and already knows it's a mistake; pale, bloodless fingers are raised, pointed blue kunai slotted in-between each one. They spark with electricity, jagged prongs of lightening coming closer… Coming closer…

There's a loud explosion of white light and pierced skin as four deadly weapons sweep down pale flesh, the black basement momentarily flooding with light. The boy gasps, staggers, legs buckle and fail to support his weight, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood.

She grins, head back, flicking her antenna. It's all just a sick game to her, a battle of minds and wills and she knows eventually she'll win because she always does. She likes playing games and fucking about with her victims; that sweet little blonde girl comes to mind. She plays with her food before she eats it, taking her time, poisoned lips and a sting in her tail.

"What's your name?" she asks again, voice sweet like honey bouncing off the slimy stone walls, lost amongst the shadows and spiders and god knows what else. She _is_ a spider, spinning webs of lies and luring little insects into the centre. A flick of the wrist, a jerk of the head, a flash, and it's game set match. She's won already.

"My name… My name… I am… I am…" he doesn't want to say it because if he does she'll have won but he knows all he's doing is prolonging his own pain, unable to swallow his pride. A deadly hiss: "_Wrong answer_" and another sharp burst of light that penetrates through his aqua eyes and into his skull. A gasp. A scream. A shrill, sadistic giggle.

"You're Riku, aren't you?" she smiles patronizingly from her cobweb-covered corner, lost behind mould and dark and the over-powering scent of damp. She likes her job; Marluxia told her to beat some sense into the replica before handing it over to Naminé, make it easier to break. They're going to pull apart his head and insert lots of lovely little false memories and spin more lies. It's _easy_, and it's not like anybody will stop them. Sora? Too busy trying to save his princess. Naminé? Too scared of Larxene. Much, much, much too scared.

"I… I'm not…" He gulps, seeing a flash of metal in the dark, an ominous crackling noise signifying impeding storm clouds and yellow white-hot lightening streaking across his darkness. He can smell the blood on his arm; see it, garish and red, in the quick snatches of light from the woman's weapons. Toys. Playthings. He's her plaything now. And he's easy, so very easy, to break, and in all the right places.

"I… I… I am Riku…" he finally replies, much to his brain's chagrin ('_You're giving up, you coward!_ _You're letting her walk all over you! Fight back, it's what you were meant to do!_'). His arm hurts too much to register anything other than pain**pain****pain** and my god won't it stop? She can make it stop.

"And I should think so too," she laughs, another crackle as more pain shoots up his arm, more crimson splatters the floor in patterns, webs. "Come on then, little toy thing. Let's go and see Naminé, why don't we? Just to make sure that fact really hits home." She croons her words, light and airy-fairy and sing-song like, voice breathy. She sounds like a little girl, delighted by an array of presents in brightly coloured-wrappings for Christmas. A lot more new plastic elastic long-lasting things for her to break and shatter and cut to ribbons. But of course, nothing's better than her very own coin-operated boy. Thank you, Marluxia. Thank you, Vexen. Just what I always wanted.

"C'mon. Don't say you can't get up 'cause it _hurts_. You're made of chemicals and darkness and things that light up. Go on. Up. **Up**. **Up**!" Her voice; shrill excited, kicking him in the side, tugging at his still, comatose body, pulling at his silver strands of hair. His breathing is stilted, pained. He doesn't need to breathe.

"Hmph. Some hero _you_ are," she snorts derisively, raising her hand, kunai pointed, glowing, tingling, ready.

It's so much more fun breaking what was already broken in the first place.


	16. Marionette

**To all the marionettes out there;**

**-**

**-**

Riku had never been a quitter, even when his arm hurt like hell, a thousand fires, and Sora obviously had the upper hand he never quit; Sora grinned triumphantly towards Kairi on the sidelines in a cheesy version of heroism and then Riku flipped him off mid-way through his moment of glory, brunet on the floor with wooden sword pointed to his chest and '_aw man, now the score's 18-0_.'

Riku had never been a quitter, even when Kairi was dying softly on the floor, withering away like a rose minus water; grey and sepia tainted like an old photograph, and he did everything he could think of to get her back even if it put him against his friends and tied up his limbs and sliced and diced his heart into bloody little pieces if he even _had_ a heart anymore and '_you know, Riku has changed._'

Riku had never been a quitter, even as he placed his chips upon the table and pushed them over to the darkness waiting on the other side with glowing yellow eyes and bloodied syringe-like teeth; loosing control slowly as ice enshrouded his innards and hands encircled his heart, squishing it between two clawed fingers splattered with the heady scent of crimson and '_you! You're not… Riku…_'

**Loose of your control with me.**

Riku had never been a quitter even though he knew deep down he was merely a puppet.

**-**

**-**

**Cut your strings and be free with me.**

* * *

**a/n: **the boldedness is the lyrics to the song 'puppet' by thousand foot krutch. not my fave song by them but it's still good :3


	17. Dear Diary

**Dear diary,**

I saved the world today. Yes, you read it right; _I saved the world_. Sora was too soft for his own good, always was when I **always** beat him, and looked at me in fear like I was a monster. I'm not a monster. I'm saving the world. If people took hold of the darkness like I do without fear or fright or hesitation maybe everybody would be heroes like me. I think they didn't make it. I think they died. I saved the world even so; if they'd gone with my they could've lived. Not my fault.

-

**Dear diary,**

I saved the world today. Yes, you read it right; _I saved the world_. I made my way to a whole new town and fought through seas of golden eyes and twisted black legs and corkscrew antennae and met **him** at the other end. _Sora_. Only he wasn't; he'd taken on some sort of (_stupid_) air of grandeur and thought he was better than me. Wasn't he forgetting how he always lost? He'll lose this time. I went off and met up with a woman, Maleficent. She knows things. She told me things. I'll play the prince and find Kairi and save the world. Sora's too weak. Not my fault.

-

**Dear diary,**

I saved the world today. Yes, you read it right; _I saved the world_. I found Kairi, nestled halfway to hell in a chasm of darkness with open mouth and clenching fists and it **hurt** to see her (but don't tell them that because any weakness is a bad weakness) so I gathered her up and told myself all the whole that I'll bring her back. I've come so far already; I'm _this_ close to saving Kairi. Saving the world. And Sora… Well… Not my fault.

-

**Dear diary,**

I saved the world today. Yes, you read it right; _I saved the world_. I fought off Sora because he was trying to taint me with lies and infect my lovely princess and I won't let him _do_ that because **he's** the villain. If there ever was a fairytale echoing my life I would win and he would lose because that's how it always is. I'll win Kairi and I'll win my happy ending. I'll save the world. I can do it. I know I can. I was destined to do it. And Sora… Well, let him fall by the wayside. Not my fault.

**-**

**Dear diary,**

I saved the world today. Yes, you read it right; _I saved the world_. I brought Kairi back to my palace and placed her in a case of magic, waiting for the kiss of life from her handsome prince. She's safe. And Sora, he tried to invade my fortress and take her back into his blood-stained hands and glowing yellow eyes and he's completely and utterly **heartless**. He was too weak; I am in possession the Keyblade and I'll keep getting stronger because I have to fight despicable creatures like him and save the world. Sora can die; _should_ die. Not my fault.

-

**Dear diary,**

I... I… I think… I think I destroyed the world today. I… I opened my eyes… and looked around… And it was my island bathed in darkness and that was where I was hiding and Sora was looking at me in disgust because… Well… I think it's my fault…

**-**

**Dear diary,**

Sora saved the world today.


	18. And Then

And first you were b o r n. . .

When you were _small_ you liked to dream **b i g**; of princesses with golden hair and palaces with staircases winding up and down and all around and scenes from picture-books with dragons and knights and oh so many things.

When you were _small_ your island was **b i g**; of palm trees that swayed perpetually in the breeze and secret caves filled with moss and mushrooms and things to climb and see and make and do and oh so many things.

And then you g r e w up. . .

When you were **b i g **you liked to dream **b i g**; of rafts set out to sea surfing over aquamarine waves and new lands in the horizon just past the point you stared at longingly every evening from your papou tree and new adventures that'll go down in history (because you always did fancy yourself as a hero) and oh so many things.

When you were **b i g **your island was _small_; every inch explored and examined and excavated until your footprints fill the sand at every twist and turn and there's nowhere left to go without doubling back on yourself, every tree climbed and every cave found and every wall drawn on (plastered with thoughts of a new picture-book land) and oh my, there's nothing left anymore.

And then the s t o r m came. . .

When you **dead** you didn't dream at all, **b i g **or _small_; endless black abysses as far as the eye could see all trapped in your head, everything you have equals virtually n o t h i n g; you hold onto that nothing with cold fingers and empty eyes because it's all you have (all you'll ever have now).

When you were **dead** you didn't have your island anymore; a swift flick of red hair from the corner of one eye, a hand stretched out to yours that you never managed to take; you blink swiftly and the image is gone because it was never there to begin with (and you wonder if this is what insanity feels like).

And then you r e a l i s e d. . .

The world is far, far too big for you and you are far, far too small for the world; eaten by fate and thrown about by destiny; maybe there was a _reason_ they kept you on that island.

The world is far, far too big and you are far, far too small to own it all.

that for you it's a l l o v e r.


	19. I'm Not Okay

Sora thinks about her a lot. Sora thinks a lot, full stop, and when he's not busy saving the worlds or wiping out heartless the rational part of his brain steps back and **she** appears in a burst of supernovas and sweet laughter all superimposed on a violet lilac background.

His hands hold hers as her petite figure falls short of his newly increased height by about a head; she laughs as she was always meant to laugh (don't think about the dead girl on the floor) and her hair whips about her head in a flurry of crimson-red (don't think about listless bodies covered in blood) and her eyes sparkle like oceans (don't think about falling; don't think at all).

And yet he can't help but think, and when he's not thinking about her as she twists and turns about him whilst stars rain down from the sky he's thinking about his home, his island, his quest and, more often than not, his best friend.

He sees him stood to the far corner of his fantasy; silver hair and pale skin almost luminous against a backdrop of darkness surrounding the happy couple. He turns, seeming the merge into the shadows like a creature with dark skin and tendril hair and greedy yellow eyes and Sora wants to reach out for him but Kairi's holding onto him tightly as if he's the only thing anchoring her to the ground and he can't let go and he doesn't know _who_ to save anymore, who to go after, and Riku's disappearing as he looks on in defeat and…

"Aren't you guys forgetting about me?"

Sora jerks his hands away from Kairi as if she's burnt him, tiny brittle broken princess crumples to the floor in a pile of skin and bone and bright bright red, darkness scuttles up and about her pale skin and worms through inviting flesh into her heart, twisted fingers gripping the prize tightly as it slowly turns black.

"Take care of her."

But he couldn't even do _that_ as the bodies surround him on all sides and he turns and – b l i n k s – and everything dissolves from sight in an explosion of violet and lilac and red and black and silver, falling about him like brightly-coloured star fall.

"Sora? Sora, are you okay?"

Shaking, hands pulling at the fabric of his clothes and no, I'm _not_ okay; "Eh. Yeah… I'm fine…"

Sora blinks and sees black; smashed-in bones and pretty-faced girls and boys he couldn't quite save before they were snatched away behind locked doors.

Sora tries to put on a smile but knows deep down inside that he'll never be okay again.

* * *

**a.n: **this could be taken many different ways'; it could be seen as sora/riku friendship with kairi always in the way, sora feeling guilty about liking kairi more than riku, sora in KH1 when he's only just found kairi and then left her unprotected on the island to save riku from the darkness. take your pick. it's sora, kairi AND riku angst this time yey :3 title stolen from a song by MCR even though i don't like MCR.


	20. Rainbow

**red**: The colour of her hair and her lips and her blood running down pale arms and legs with gaping holes in her empty heart.

**orange:** The colour of the sunset-smeared sky as light poured across the ocean in a sea of sparkles, the giant sun slowly and gave way to a terrifying world of twisted monsters and whispers on the breeze and shadows on all sides.

**yellow:** The colour of the sand underfoot as three teens ran across it laughing and shouting and sobbing and falling and dying.

**green:** The colour of the trees as they swayed gently in the breeze or ripped up from the roots in terrible storms.

**blue:** The colour of his eyes until he turned around one day and saw what had happened to his home and his princess and his best friend's heart broke because death and defeat didn't look good on him.

**violet:** The colour of her clothes as they blow about stick-thin limbs whilst trying to cover blood and gore as it all soaked through.

**indigo: **The colour of space, studded with dreams and destinies and stars and planets that all blink out one by one as everything goes dark and cold.

**black:** The colour of darkness and decay and pointed claws and golden eyes and twisted fairytale monsters that haunt nightmares and the bottoms of closets.

**dead:** The colour of Riku.


	21. Once Upon a Time

Riku had always been meticulous ever from the word go. Each and every little minute detail planned down to perfection, a slap-dash story of a young hero who saved worlds with every turn of the page and rescued fair maidens.

(And then _she _came and suddenly all the princesses he rescued had violet-blue eyes red hair and he loved them with all his **heart**.)

But slowly, very slowly, he watched from the sidelines (like a young girl making Thalassa shell necklaces and counting on stars waiting for _**them**_ to return millions of miles away) as his princess' heart faded first into darkness and then into Sora.

(And then suddenly all the villains had brown hair and blue eyes and Riku tore them all into **ribbons**.)

Desperate to claw his fairytale back again (like a young boy who wasn't even that, just a _thing_ with empty yellow eyes that crawled on all fours surrounded with tendrils of darkness) he did each and every little thing he could until it was far too late to go back and he slipped away into a comatose state.

(And then suddenly all the monsters had silver hair and aqua eyes and Riku crumpled up in a heap and **collapsed**.)

Fragmented images crossed through mind as shooting stars streak across a black sky, nowhere to go but to fall even further (like a young boy with blond hair who looked oh-so-much like _**him**_ who had no home and no place and no heart), as he closed the book as he closed the door and uttered those last words, "take care of her", because if he couldn't protect the princess who would?

(And then suddenly the prince and princess were reunited and lived happily ever after until **the end**.)

* * *

**a/n: **all the people mentioned in this (sora, kairi, antisora & roxas) are meant to be ones that have been hurt by riku in some way or another, kay?


	22. Enough

Riku is not a religious person.

In his world of smoke and mirrors and golden eyes and corkscrew antenna and darkness at every twist and turn and fork in the path there's no _need_ – you just stumble along blindly and hope that this step won't be your last.

There's no time to think fond thoughts about Sunday School (where you tipped a bottle of ink over Sora's head to get Kairi's attention, remember? You were never allowed back in after that) or church (where you dropped the collection plate to get Kairi's attention, remember? Your mother had a right moan at you, as mothers do, for misbehaviour) when you're stuck in a _void _with nothing to do and nowhere to go but forwards.

In fact, Riku's not sure God even exists anymore – if he did where was the hand to guide him along the right path back home when the storm came?

But then again, he _was_ trying to impress Kairi. Thinking that she'd _adore_ him and _revere_ him as a hero if you stared at the darkness unflinching.

Still, he's not deaf to the words of the wise – he's always kept one saying a particularly religious person said close to his heart throughout his whole life and whole journey.

_Men die. Beasts die. Even trees die. Only death is eternal._

Riku supposes the man meant something along the lines of 'life is short so make the most of it because nobody knows what's out there after you die. All we know is that whatever waiting for you never ends.

Be good, be polite, smile, don't tip ink on Sora's head, don't drop the collection plate, don't show off in front of Kairi, don't split Sora and Kairi up if you _really_ want to make her happy.

Riku wonders if he _is_ in hell, for his darkness is always _there_. Even if it's not around him physically it resides in his heart in the form of that evil man who hurt so many people.

And yet, as the darkness leads him to many places and many worlds, the one he lingers at most is a church. A beautiful piece of architecture surrounded with lilies. They grow out the floor, smothering the scent of decay with their strange and delightful aromas that tickle the nose and make one feel light-headed. Sleepy.

Almost as though there's nothing in the world that's more important than lying down and staring up at the sky through the roof that caved in long ago, thinking. Maybe dreaming.

And although Riku is not religious, he can't tear his eyes away from that building, those lilies, that bright blue sky.

He thinks.

He can smell death in this place even beyond the floral mask dancing in the air – he sees the vague shape of a woman, bending down to tend to her flowers. A… red dress, is it? Pink? He's not sure, but he does know he'll never be able to ask her.

And yet her flowers continue to grow.

Riku mulls over what that one wise man said to him a long time ago, and can't help but think that maybe he was wrong all along.

If you make a big enough mark on the world you will _never_ die. Stories go around and around again of brave people and daring deeds and, in a way, with every retelling they will come alive again, even if only in imaginations.

Perhaps it is enough.

These lilies are enough.

And maybe Riku could be just enough, too.

* * *

**a/n: **yey, riku angst-ness. i borrowed a lot from final fantasy here – the comment about death was made by maester mika in ffx and the church is aerith's x3 


	23. Selphie

Selphie sees more than people think.

Wakka looks upon the sea and thinks of it as a sphere pool for playing Blitzball, nothing more.

Tidus looks upon the sand and thinks of it as an arena for wooden sword fights and epic battles, nothing more.

Sora looks upon the sky and thinks of it as an object separating him from this world and the next, nothing more.

Kairi looks at the shells and driftwood and thinks of it as objects to build her pretty charm bracelets, nothing more.

And yet _Selphie _doesn't.

No, the real girl behind the bright smiles and flipped-up hair and papou promises sees it all in a completely different light. She sees it all built up of black-and-white memories, of young children swimming and building sandcastles and naming clouds and finding shiny stones.

The smell of salt in the air and the crying of the seagulls means so much _more _to her than anybody could ever know, would ever realise.

Except maybe for…

He always sits on his papou island detached from the mainland, detached from the others. He's there so often it even became _his_ island.

Selphie wonders how it happened sometimes…

Maybe Riku looks upon himself and thinks that is inferior to everybody else because doesn't everybody else slot into their own little groups quite comfortably without him?

Selphie, Tidus and Wakka. Sora and Kairi. And Riku, stood alone, on his island.

Selphie wishes that, before everything happened and everyone fell through her fingertips like grains of sand leaving a broken-hearted red-head and two gaping gashes in the fabric of her memories, she'd told him something. Told him _anything_.

Told him that she didn't think of him as inferior, because she thought of everything differently to everyone else.

Even though she was always with the others, smiling and laughing, inside she was so far away. Even further away than Riku on the papou tree, for she was off with her memories buried at the back of her mind.

She could have told him – should have told him – that he was so much more than what he thought he was.

And yet she never did.

And now it's too late.


	24. Good Day

People never want to hear about Riku's good days.

It's always "Riku, what's wrong? Why do you look so gloomy?" and never, ever, _ever_ "Riku, what's wrong? Why do you look so happy?".

People _except _Riku to be sad (maybe he sits on the papou tree because he likes it. Maybe he's stoic and unresponsive because he chooses to be. Maybe he's so protective of Kairi because he loves her like a sister. Maybe he doesn't even care that Sora has Kairi and Kairi has Sora. Maybe, deep down, he's happy for them).

Maybe, just maybe, people _want_ Riku to be sad. Some horrible little selfish part of each individual wants somebody to compare their lives to, wants to go "well it could be worse – I could be _Riku_", _wants_ somebody to sad so they can feel **happy.**

And who is Riku to make his best friends unhappy?

If Sora wants Riku to feel jealous of him because he has Kairi, let him – it makes Sora happier, even though he won't admit it. He likes beating Riku, even if he doesn't know Riku has beaten him yet again because the boy couldn't give a damn who has Kairi and who doesn't.

If Kairi wants Riku to feel jealous of her because she's been to one of those 'other worlds' that he stares at so longingly on his papou island, let her – it makes Kairi happier, even though she won't admit it. She likes beating Riku, even if she doesn't know Riku has beaten her yet again because the boy couldn't give a damn if Kairi's been to another world or hasn't.

Tidus, Wakka, Selphie – even _they _giggle in corners about how much better _their_ lives are than Riku's and he knows it perfectly.

But, to keep everybody happy, Riku will be sad.

Riku will be sad even when he _isn't _sad because that's what Riku does.

And so the boy forces a frown and stands in the corner with his arms crossed and hopes with all his might that nobody _ever_ goes up to him and says 'Riku, did you have a good day?' because he might just end up saying yes.


	25. Princess

Riku thought he'd feel _something _when he fell into the darkness, chasing dreams and fantasies of being a prince in shining armour.

Just like a little girl who fell down a rabbit hole.

But there's absolutely _nothing _left to feel which he hasn't felt fifty times over already. The pain had come and gone, and in its place was a strong desire to lay down in the grave he'd dug for himself and sleep. Sleep for a houndred years.

Just like a fair maiden with sunshine in her hair who pricked her finger a spinning wheel.

He'd already gone through every single little detail that led to his downfall, cursing Sora, cursing Kairi. Kairi. It was all her fault, what with her wide violet-blue eyes and her small smiles, infectious giggles, the way she looked and laughed and touched him casually, spoke to him, bright red hair bouncing around her shoulders... Tempting him to what he could not have, for he knew she'd always return to Sora's arms, Sora's heart - why did she need his?

Just like a raven-haired beauty who reached out for a rosy red apple that would bring about her destruction.

But no, he decided, leaning back against a wall (do corridors of darkness even have walls? Substance? Or is this all in my mind...?). It wasn't Kairi's fault. It never had been. She'd only tried to be a good friend to both Riku and Sora, to bridge the gap that had stretched between them, to smile and be happy like their own little beam of sunshine. Despite Kairi's happy-go-lucky ways Riku had still found himself sinking into the darkness, trying to take that smile, trying to make it his. All his.

Just like a chambermaid reaching out to take hold of a glass slipper that would tie the prince to her forever.

And now look at him... Sat by himself, broken and alone - so terribly alone - with his arms wrapped around his legs, hair hanging in his pale face. He'd probably never see Kairi or Sora again now, trapped in this dark realm with fairytale monsters and glowing yellow eyes.

Just like a pretty French girl locked up in a castle with a hideous beast.

He wished he could turn the clock back - oh how he _wished _- and just spend one more day back home on his island. Just one more day... He was a fool, always daydreaming of escape until his body was enveloped by tendrils of inky darkness and he'd finally realised just how much he would be leaving behind... But it was too late.

Just like an Arabian princess who longed to escape palace walls, only to find the real world far too much more than she could handle.

Riku always supposed he was like the knight in the story, braving thorns and thistles and all the forces of evil to rescue Kairi, his temptation, his one-true-love, to plant a kiss on her rose-red lips and make her his forever.

Riku now knew he had been wrong.

He wasn't the knight.

He wasn't even good enough to play at being the villain. He'd been a **puppet** all along, hung by invisble thread and forced to do horrible things.

No. He was the bloody _princess_ here, sat in his tower waiting to be rescued.

Too bad there was nobody else left who wanted to save him.

* * *

**a.n: lol, princess riku. and... um... i think it sort of sucks, but i got an idea and was like 'lol must write' but i wasn't in angsty mood & it was hard putting every princess in & i didn't put in kairi but whatever it mentions her enough. & i really wanted to finish this angst collection, so consider this the final chapter x3 love all my reviewers very much so, i just want to get this over with now D**


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